Lost Sheep
by death-in-the-orchard
Summary: Abraham Van Hellsing in Count Dracula's mansion...what will become of the hunter? Where is the shepherd that is supposed to protect the lost sheep?


The scent trailed throughout the mansion like smoke seeping from smoldering paper, making winding paths through rooms and down into the depths of the dungeon. Like a blood hound following the scent of its vermin prey, the creature followed the path with empty features, animated only by glowing eyes that caught the slightest change in light with an added spark. The vampire was led to his library, then to a chair that held the most concentrated scent…and a human that still remained in it. The vampire gazed at the mortal, fangs tingling with the blood he had drank some hours before, but also from the habitual teasing reminder that blood was near him. The man was reading a book, seemingly ignorant of his presence, but the vampire knew that this was no common human. This man wore a crucifix under a necklace of tied garlic flowers, newly blossomed, that were beginning to droop after having been plucked from their body. The scent of Holy water and wood also touched the air, giving another flare to the burning eyes. Blonde hair, fair skin not untouched by the sun, and bright, sky-blue eyes…this man was Dutch, a foreigner…carrying scents from his homeland and the weapons he wished to use on the demon.

Abraham Van Hellsing was engrossed in the literature held in his hands. It was true that he still struggled at times with the English language, his accent weighing down his tongue as he tried to pronounce its words, but he could read their language and consumed their knowledge greedily. So, for the moment, as if was a few hours until sunset, he did not at first notice the creature standing by his arm, looking at the book over his shoulder. He should have died that day, in all honesty. But he did not.

"Have you lost your way, little sheep?"

Hellsing's eyes froze on a word, soon unable to see it as his eyes widened, losing their sharp vision for a moment while hands tightened on the book. Instantly hiding his flare of anxiety, Abraham looked up at the vampire who watched him emotionlessly. Then the beast smiled and gestured at the book in a civil manner, as if the man was his invited guest. "This is not a public library, and while you have trespassed onto my property and have rummaged through my home, don't let me stop you from reading. It is an interesting book, and should be appreciated. Is that not so, my lost little sheep?"

Abraham smirked as he shut the book, a gentle whisper of air pushed aside as the pages wished to close together, gazing at the being, taking in its form. The vampire was dressed in black, wearing a black trench coat and traveling cape which had not been removed though they were indoors, high boots, a white-collared shirt, and a scarlet bow with trailing ribbon…a little dark but still within the bounds of the Victorian dress of the times, the vampire stood beside him, closer than the man had hoped to see it that night. The bright, molten eyes seared their image into his mind. He would never forget them.

"You have returned earlier than expected, Count."

Dark eyebrows rose and the fiery eyes seemed to burn hotter as an ivory grin split the vampire's face. Hellsing noted the vampire's lack of disturbance with hidden pleasure and contempt. This demon was worthy of the name Nosferatu. It made the distinction of predator and prey between them, difficult.

"So you know who I am as well?" The smile widened with good-humored amusement, and the beast gave the man a breadth of space so that the human's muscles could relax from their taught readiness. Caution would not allow Hellsing to relax as he observed his prey…or predator. He still could not make out what they were…but he declared confidently in his mind that he was no sheep in the clutches of a hungry wolf. Then again, with the color in the vampire's complexion…it did not appear to be in any need of a meal. "I am pleased."

Abraham blinked, coming back from his thoughts again. His calf twitched as he deliberated between standing and remaining where he was seated. As he was, he posed no immediate threat to the vampire, and the vampire did not seem interested in feeding from him. He stayed where he was. "You have already fed tonight, Count Dracula?"

"Does that bother you?" Humor melted the words, sweetening them so that they were like honey. But the hunter had his wits about him and frowned with a chuckle that seemed hostile to his expression and opinion.

"That is why I am here."

"Oh? Do you wish to feed me, little sheep? No, I would not want your blood anyway. This land has many careless virgins whose uncovered necks are like offerings, of which I gladly accept." Dracula smiled at the fury boiling in the man's veins. "Don't be so easy to lose your temper. It makes all of this so dull…."

"…Little sheep."

Abraham's eyes stared at the opposite wall, not caring for the rows of books that covered it. He heard and could feel that the vampire was behind his chair now, having evaporated like wind sweeping away dust or smoke. A chill entered the man's body, but was dissolved by the heat of his excitement. His prey was one to hunger for, and he smiled, making the vampire chuckle. "Why am I a sheep, Count? Would that make you grass or weed that I would graze from in the pasture?"

"You humor me, Hunter. Do you think me to be your prey?" He gave a warm, intimate chuckle and sighed, a hand touching the shoulder of the human. His hand caressed it, satisfied by the disgust and thrill given off from the stiffened muscles. There was no fear that he could smell. "You are lost, indeed. Trudge through the country and find one of my children. They can be your prey, and so you may kill them until you satiate your appetite. But come to me, little sheep, and my fangs will become buried in your vulnerable throat." The hand had crawled up the man's shoulder, reaching to touch the pulse in his neck, but Hellsing grabbed the hand before it could. It was cool, but warmer than a corpse's hand, Hellsing felt through his glove. He had never touched a vampire like this, for he had been unable to. Once they died, they fell as dust or became common corpses. And if they were undead, to touch like this would mean certain death. But his hand remained as it was, and the Count did nothing.

"Why are you in Great Britain?" Hellsing asked, watching the demon out of the corner of his eye as he turned his head to the side.

Dracula looked at his hand, but did nothing about the contact, not caring if he was leaving his hand to the hunter's mercy. "Why are you in Great Britain?" He echoed with a smile.

The man's eyes narrowed slightly. He answered anyway. "To put you back into your grave, Vampire. But _I _asked you that question."

"Perhaps I came to find you as well?" The demon purred, causing the man to tighten his grip on the hand. It would have caused a normal human to wince, but the vampire did nothing but smile.

"That's a lie."

"Don't call it such an ugly thing. I am putting out a possibility, not an answer."

Abraham couldn't suppress a shiver as the cold breath whispered in his ear. His free hand revealed his pistol with a scowl. "Don't do that." He hissed, turning around, twisting the hand he held. His gun was at the lowered beast's throat, but it did not care. There was a dull snap and both looked at the awkward position the pale hand was in.

"I think you broke something."

The man started at the whisper that had gone to his ear again, but his blood ran cold as a tongue slipped over it, outlining his ear's curve at the lobe. The hand holding the pistol jerked and the finger moved to pull the trigger. "No, no, no…" The beast's chest rumbled with his mirth, a hand snaking its way to the gun, holding back the trigger. "Let's not do that quite yet."

Abraham had no idea how it came about that he was facing forward in the chair and the vampire was hanging over him, their lips pressed together. His wide eyes gazed blankly at the closed eyes that opened to show their glowing crimson, sparking as his numbed nerves should have, though it would have been in alarm at the tongue invading his mouth. Soft and coaxing…like the heat of the gaze, it lulled the blue eyes to close and submit to the kiss, taking pleasure in being pressed back into the chair.

There was a breeze that stroked his body, and then he was being lowered gently onto a pliant mattress. No questions came. Nothing mattered now except the tingles of pleasure that came from the tender touches and kisses coming down his chin, to his neck, to his chest as his jacket was pulled away and his shirt unbuttoned. He was lost in the touches, the sensations, all unknown to him.

"My little lost sheep." The demon breathed into Hellsing's hair, and then kissed his back as the human shuddered.

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

Abraham's eyes fluttered open. Dazed with sleep, his soreness slowly seeped through his bones and muscles and he closed his eyes, burying his face into the plump pillow it rested on, feeling the soothing thickness of the comforter he was under. But with the recognized scent of earth on the sheets, his eyes shot open while his body became rigid. Abraham went cold as he felt his exposure, feeling the sheets' contact with his bare skin. He remembered the night before.

Hellsing threw back the blankets, getting off the bed, he felt physical pain as long as he was in it. Nausea flipped his stomach and the man gagged, but he swallowed his bile. Shakily his eyes darted about the lushly refurbished bedroom, seeing the reoccurring theme of deep scarlet. Because of this, he almost overlooked his own red trench coat, but he spotted it folded on a chair. His other clothes were neatly folded under it. Putting the garments on shakily, the man's shock slipped from away gradually, replaced by rage. His hands shook with this fury as he fitted his coat on his shoulders with a uncultivated snarl.

"Damn him. Damn him!" the man hissed and then roared. He took out his pistol, which had thankfully not been removed along with his other weapons. Abraham strode through the house, hatred in his eyes as he remembered each touch and murmur. His fingers went to his mouth, his eyes dulling, and then firing with anger, he burst through another door. He searched the mansion, though he already knew that it did not contain the vampire. After exhausting himself, he ended his rampage in the library, collapsing into the familiar chair.

He looked down at the floor, between his feet where his book from the other day lay. The book left his vision, blue eyes unfocusing, seeing the vampire's face above him, hearing his own whimpers and moans. Abraham blinked and the book returned to his vision, its dark blue cover coloring his own eyes. He observed the book as his teeth grit together savagely.

Suddenly standing, he put his gun away and stepped over the book. He left to send a telegram to Seward, knowing how worried the man must be, having not heard from Hellsing since the day before. When Abraham returned to the mansion after getting food that tasted of sand, to fill his stomach, it was noon. Hellsing fell into the chair, his eyes going tiredly to the book. Blue faded from the room behind lashes as the hunter sighed, a single voice in his mind as he drifted off into a sleeping, waking state.

_My little lost sheep._

*~*~::..+..::~*~*

It was the same time. The demon and hunter had met at the same time, the sun was descending, reaching the same point in the sky, when Dracula drifted into the room, filling it as if he had been there the entire time. He smiled at the man that gazed at him impassively. Then Hellsing's face erupted into a passion of emotion and he tore himself from the chair, the metal of his gun flashing in the lighting, directed at the black figure's chest. Abraham would shoot the demon's heart and end all of this, but his indignant pride made his snarl, baring his teeth without his knowledge, and he did not fire.

"How dare you!" he hissed, eyes bright, brimming with malice. The demon continued to smile, drawing a roar from the man. "I'm here to kill you, Vampire King!"

"My little lost sheep." Abraham's heart jerked, but he held the gun and his glare steady at the beast. "Do you suppose that this is your home? Your shed? Your pasture? Do you see any other sheep in here, my lost one?" Dracula chuckled, stepping forward deliberately.

The man's shoulders readied for the recoil from the shot, but he hesitated, wanting the vampire to stop for a passing moment. Then he fired with a yell, the bullet going clear through the beast's heart. Dracula didn't stop, though his eyes glanced down to the dripping wound. He looked at Abraham while it healed. "You shot me?" He murmured, wrapping his arms around the hunter's neck, his lips grazing the man's ear.

Stunned, Hellsing stared dumbly at the shelves of book where the bullet had buried itself as soft kisses were left on his jaw. The vampire…hadn't been hurt by the silver bullet.

"Are you surprised?" Came a deep chuckle. Hellsing returned to himself, shoving the vampire away to the best of his ability, and stepping back. The barrel of his gun went to the demon's head this time.

"Don't touch me!" he barked, his gun clicking, ready to unload its silver bullet into the undead skull. "You will not bewitch me again, demon!"

Dracula paused, gazing into the blue eyes. "I did not bewitch you… You seemed to approve of what we did last night, at the time."

The gun was thrust into Dracula's face, but the pale features did not move. Abraham glowered at the beast, his finger twitching over the trigger. He did nothing but stiffen when the cold hand pushed the gun away and an equally cold body pushed against his own. The hand cupped Hellsing's face and lips kissed his mouth.

Blue sparked. Abraham's teeth grated together, then, without warning, snapped at the face that jerked out of the way reflexively. Dracula watched the hatred and doubt in the eyes, keeping his hands as they were.

They left the room with a movement of air, and the man found himself being pulled down on top of the vampire that was letting himself fall back on the mattress. Inhaling sharply when they came to a rest, a hand knitted into Abraham's, moving the gun to the demon's temple. Blue and red stared into one another as seconds went by.

"Will this suffice, sheep? Or would you rather blow out the contents of my skull onto this bed?" The Count grinned without his fangs at the lost look he received from the hunter, and he chortled, his head thrown back as it turned into a laugh, exposing his white neck. Abraham gazed at it, entranced. He lowered both of their hands, and the gun, to the mattress, moving his lips to the mouth that leaned into them.

Unsure hands removed the demon's coat, leading the beast to smile as the kiss continued. Warm lips traveled to the vampire's jaw and red eyes shut, feeling the pounding of the man's pulse. "Will you do it all on your own?" He asked through his amusement.

"Yes." Abraham replied, his voice thicker now. It cleared as he coughed in order to speak again, eyes going to the neck. "You are the sheep now. I am the wolf, Count."

The chest shook with humor. "And what, may I ask, is the name of this wolf that is to devour me?"

Hellsing jolted in surprise, feeling some unease for the circumstances and the ignorance he had left the vampire in. He answered the question when he normally would not have been obliged. "Abraham Van Hellsing."

"Ah." Eyes opened for a moment, to view the ceiling. "A good name for a wolf."

The Count's eyes widened in shock, then shut tightly as a gasp escaped his lips, his head tilting back. From the vampire's throat, Abraham smirked for a moment. His mouth marked the neck. Though the mark faded soon afterwards, the human was pleased with the squirming he felt beneath him. A panting breath lingered above him as hands removed the man's own clothes, and then the remaining garments covering the vampire.

"Hellsing…you are an interesting man." Crimson shone from lidded eyes, glinting at the face above him. "I don't know why this has come about at all, this night or last night. I usually have no taste for men, and I can assume that it is also the same for you." The eyes shut, leaving the man pondering.

"And what does this mean, then?"

Dracula left his eyes closed, shuddering once. "I don't know everything, Abraham…Van Hellsing. What should I call you?"

"Anything you want." A misplaced, stern expression was on the man's face, but in truth, his mind was cloudy and his heart pliant as he watched the pale creature beneath him.

"I will call you Hellsing."

"Yes." Hellsing kissed the lips that had barely shut, while the night began to descend upon them both.


End file.
